


Trust

by NahaFlowers



Series: Flint is Eleanor's bi dad [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, lots of tears and glistening eyes, sadly little to no mention of miranda, sorry about that i couldn't fit it in, whenever Eleanor calls Flint 'James' I cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: “Oh come now, don’t look so surprised. My father told me the story that was put about in London, of the affair that Lieutenant James Mcgraw had with Thomas Hamilton’s wife, how the discovery of his wife’s infidelity, with his own closest friend, no less, sent Lord Hamilton mad.”A muscle twitched in Flint’s jaw.“But that’s not the whole story, is it?”“No. No, it isn’t.” Flint swallowed down the thickness in his throat as he remembered saying those exact words to Miranda, ten years ago, when she had surmised that what was going on between he and Thomas was not just some affair.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Set later in the evening after Rough Day. Eleanor wants to know about Thomas Hamilton.

“Tell me about Thomas Hamilton.”

Flint froze, then looked up at the open doorway to the captain’s quarters, to see Eleanor standing there, looking expectant. There was a defiant tilt to her chin, as if she knew she was asking too much but was determined to get answers anyway.

“What?” said Flint, trying to sound politely bemused (a tone that had never come easily to him, not even as Mcgraw), but merely coming off as shocked.

“If we’re to continue in this venture together, we must be of the same mind. I have to know why you are doing what you are doing. And right now, I don’t think I have the whole story.”

Flint continued to look taken aback.

“Oh come now, don’t look so surprised. My father told me the story that was put about in London, of the affair that Lieutenant James Mcgraw had with Thomas Hamilton’s wife, how the discovery of his wife’s infidelity, with his own closest friend, no less, sent Lord Hamilton mad.”

A muscle twitched in Flint’s jaw.

“But that’s not the whole story, is it?” 

“No. No, it isn’t.” Flint swallowed down the thickness in his throat as he remembered saying those exact words to Miranda, ten years ago, when she had surmised that what was going on between he and Thomas was not just some affair.

Flint breathed in deeply, fighting the tightness in his chest. He closed his eyes, forcing those memories back into the dark, painful corner of his brain where they lived, still.  
“But it doesn’t matter,” he said. “It happened long ago, it doesn’t affect what’s happening now. It can’t. Thomas is dead.” His voice remained steady but he could not prevent a grimace of pain. “I am committed. You know this. I want what you want, a Nassau able to provide for itself, independent from England’s rule, a home to retire to once this is done.” He sighed deeply, and suddenly he looked tired, and much too old for his actual age. “Why are you asking me this?”

Eleanor threw her hands up in exasperation. “Because you know! You know all about me, and Max. You know my weaknesses and how I’ve chosen, and why. But you’ve not extended me the same courtesy. I trust you. More than almost anyone else on that goddamn island. I’ve proven that. What you haven’t proven is your trust in me.”

Flint looked pained. “I do trust you, Eleanor. And I don’t take the trust you’ve placed in me lightly, believe me. But…” He paused and rubbed a hand across his brow, “it’s just too painful.”

Eleanor looked almost contrite. “Because he died?” she asked gently, sitting down.

“Yes,” said Flint, and Eleanor was shocked to see tears in his eyes, “but more than that.” He sighed. “You’re an intelligent woman Eleanor. I can tell you’ve already half worked out what happened. You know enough about me, I’m sure you can gather the gist of the story.” He rested his face on his hand and looked tiredly up at her.

“I know,” said Eleanor slowly, “that Lord Thomas Hamilton was the first tasked with bringing Nassau back under British control. That much I was told.”

James sighed. “Thomas Hamilton was the son of Alfred Hamilton , Lord Proprietor to the Carolina colony, including New Providence Island. His father tasked Thomas to come up with the plan to get Nassau back, and with it the island. He arranged with the Admiralty to send a liaison, to aid Thomas. Me,” he added.

Eleanor closed her eyes, let out a breath. “And you fell in love with him.”

A pause. “After a fashion, yes.”

Eleanor opened her eyes and they were momentarily filled with a pity Flint found he could not bear. She quickly banished it, however, and a look of inquisitiveness replaced it.

“And the plan for Nassau?”

“Rested on and fell apart with Thomas’s plan to pardon, without condition, any and all men who would accept it.”

“Oh.” Eleanor exhaled in realisation.

Flint smiled a little sardonic smile.

“And I take it Alfred Hamilton didn’t approve of this plan.”

Flint snorted. “No, he did not.”

“But I still don’t understand,” said Eleanor. “What happened to Thomas? How did he die? Surely his own father wouldn’t commit such an act just because he proposed a blanket pardon for pirates?”

“Alfred Hamilton was a fucking bastard of a man ,” said Flint hoarsely. “But no, even he could not have gotten away with that. No, Alfred Hamilton’s rejection of his son’s plans is not what sank us. It was a blow, certainly, for Thomas was determined to see his plan through, and his father equally determined to stop him. We went to work with few prospects and fewer allies, but all of us were determined we could make this work. We were committed, you see. Thomas’s vision of the world…it was inspiring. It inspired me, even as I was cynical of it.” James sighed wearily, this dredging up of old, sad ghosts exhausting him.

“But then?” Eleanor prompted.

Flint looked up at her, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘go on’. He could see her putting the pieces together in her mind, the plans for Nassau, his and Thomas’s relationship, the hatred of his father, until:  
“His father found out about the two of you,” she said, coming to the conclusion James knew she would, the conclusion he should have seen coming all those years ago. Miranda had seen it, had begged him to stop, to stop Thomas, but he could no more have done that than he could have stopped loving Thomas, even years after his death.

He nodded grimly. “That was the end of everything,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “I was told to leave London and never return, and Thomas was taken to Bethlem Royal Hospital.”

“God, James, I’m sorry,” said Eleanor. He looked up into her eyes, his own glistening, and saw all the horror and tragedy of his story reflected back at him. “Then you came to Nassau, and became a pirate,” she said. “And swore revenge on the British Empire.”

“More or less,” said Flint, smiling a little in spite of himself. “At any rate, I wasn’t going to be swept under the rug, hidden away in Paris or Amsterdam. I had to do _something_.”

“I understand now,” said Eleanor. “All of this. The Urca de Lima. Nassau. You’re fighting for him, for Thomas. To achieve what he could not.”

Flint nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Eleanor looked at him with tears in his eyes.

“You told me, earlier, that you’d never had to make a choice like I did, that life was never that simple.”

Flint grunted in acknowledgement. 

Eleanor leaned forward and grasped his hand. “I see now that what happened to you was worse than that. At least I had a choice, impossible though it seemed. They took that choice away from you, away from Thomas, from all of you.” Tears started to fall unbidden from her eyes and she swiped them angrily away. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Flint, voice as hard as his name. Then his composure slipped and he gasped away the beginnings of a sob. “No, it bloody well isn’t.” He looked beseechingly up at Eleanor. “But even so, Eleanor, I did have a choice. I could have gone to Bethlem, saved him. I could at least have tried!” His voice was bitter with self-loathing, desperate with frustration, for he could do nothing now but look back on the ruined past and wish he had been braver.

Eleanor’s thumb stroked Flint’s hand comfortingly. “No, you didn’t, not really. You would have been killed or committed yourself, probably. And what good would that have done anyone, least of all Thomas? At least this way, you can fight them, in his memory, fight for what they took from you.”

He nodded, begrudgingly, trying to believe her words; the same words he’d tried to convince himself with, more or less, when he had set out on this path and every time since. It still didn’t take away the sting of knowing he had done nothing, _nothing_ , to save the man he loved.

“You should go,” he said, gruffly, once he had regained at least some of his composure. Eleanor nodded and stood up, but did not let go of his hand. 

“Thank you,” she said, “for being kinder to me than the world ever was to you.” She squeezed his hand tightly, once, and released it, turning and opening the door.

“Bon voyage,” she said, trying for a bit of levity. “And James?” she added, catching his eye, “Try not to get yourself killed. We need you here.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my favourite part I've written so far. Reviews are love!


End file.
